"one more time" - monolog

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Paula Poplawska

GCSE English

“ONE MORE TIME”


SCENE 1:

Girlish looking woman, in her late twenties, a little overweight, lost in thought.

She is wearing jeans, a white jumper and trainers. Her dark hair is tied back.

Scene is set up in the upper right stage corner. It is an airport arrivals lounge. There is luggage around her. She is nervously lighting a cigarette.  

Lights are directed towards her, the background is in shadow.

How many times can you start again?        

I haven’t got a job, I don’t know the language, and what’s most important I’ve never been here before.

After two years in the Italian sun, grey and cloudy England will be a big change. At least, that’s what I’ve always heard about the island.

Oh! I wish I could call this place home in a few years’ time.

English people sound alright actually. Not that I have met many of them, but the few in the airplane were really nice to me. Their Italian wasn’t as good as mine but certainly better than my English. (Silence. She looks around obviously waiting for someone).

I left this life behind me and I am not going to regret it. Not much to miss, except the weather, the sea view from the balcony and the food. There was nothing else to stop me from leaving.

Martin wasn’t Italian and after the last few months I can’t even think about him as someone close to my heart. I wish he had said something, anything, but he simply let me leave without a word. It wasn’t easy. (Her eyes are filling with tears).

I really don’t know what I was expecting. After two years together you would have thought that we both would know that it is not how we wanted to live, and certainly not in each other’s company. But perhaps for Martin everything was great. After only two months we stopped going anywhere. One day I asked him to go to the beach. He said “I’m tired. You just want to go on the beach all the time.

He was tired for the next two years.

We met in the Czech Republic where our parents live. None of us was living there on a regular basis any more. Martin had already been in Italy for about two years. His sister had married an Italian, Roberto, and they helped him start a new life there. For most people in the small village where we were born, he was the lucky one. They could only dream about living in Italy.

At the time my life wasn’t bad, it was very different however. I was working in Germany taking care of an elderly woman. At the beginning it was really tough; I knew hardly any German and had no one there. The first three months I spent in tears, but there was no chance of a job nearer home and I could save a lot of money.

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The work was live in so I had few expenses. And to be honest it wasn’t a hard job at all. Muksi was eighty-eight, but she was in very good health.  I was doing some cooking and cleaning, but not much more. They treated me as a part of the family and after while I started to feel it.

(Half closed eyes, recalling memories)

I think it was Christmas time when I started going out with Martin. He asked me “Do you have someone special?” I said no quite emphatically!  I hadn’t thought about starting a new relationship at ...

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